The image of a young Easton, bright and sweet andgood, being abused destroyed me. We stood there in silence, clinging to each other. Finally, the lump in my throat eased enough so I could speak without bursting into tears.
“You didn’t deserve that.” I pressed my lips against his skin.
I felt him shrug. “I was an obnoxious kid.”
I sucked in an angry breath and pulled away just enough to see his face. “No,” I said fiercely. “You never deserved that. No child does.”
He took a deep, shuddering breath, and the tension in his face eased. “My fierce Olive. I was lucky. I had Lars and Finn and this whole community to care for me.”
“That’s good,” I whispered. I hated that I hadn’t been there for him. It didn’t make sense—we hadn’t lived in the same town, and our seven-year age gap meant we wouldn’t have spent time together as kids anyway. But I wished it all the same—that I could have loved young Easton.
I would just have to love him now.
My heart skipped a beat. Did I love Easton? I wasn’t sure, but the lightness filling my chest felt a lot like it.
I pulled away and took him by the hand. “Come inside.”
Easton’s grip tightened as he interlocked our fingers. “This is your safe space, baby. I might not be the most patient or laid-back guy in the world”—I snorted, and he gave my ass a smack—“but Iwould never push you into something you’re not ready for. We’re going to have forever together, so I can wait until you’re ready.”
Forever.
I fiddled with the collar of his button-down, keeping my eyes fixed on his throat. “Easton, you can’t be sure about me.”
“But I am.”
I had to resist stomping my foot. “But you can’t be. You barely know me?—”
He cupped the side of my face, and I couldn’t stop myself from leaning into his palm. It was rough from his work and so warm against my cold cheeks. “I thought we’d determined that I know you better than you know yourself.”
“But—”
“And if that’s the case, then it makes perfect sense that I know we’re made for each other.”
His words were so sincere, sosure.
He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “We need to get you warm, baby.”
I reached into my bag, pulled out my keys, and unlocked the front door. Easton hung back as I took a step inside. I didn’t give him a chance to doubt himself again and pulled him inside.
The smile he gave me was so bright and brilliant it would be burned in my mind forever. His warm hands grasped my cold one, and he followed me in.
25
EASTON
I’d done it—toldOlive about my past.
Even after all this time and years of therapy, I still got that cold pit of shame in my stomach when I thought about it. I knew my mom abusing me wasn’t my fault, but sometimes I still felt like I must have done something to cause it.
I shook the dark thoughts from my mind as Olive pulled me into her home—what had been my home, for a short time at least. But I came to an abrupt stop when I saw that it was empty.
Completelyempty.
The entire time I’d known this house, the living room had been filled with an eclectic assortment of comfortable couches and armchairs. Now, there was a single basket with a blanket in it next to a tired-looking lawn chair. There were no decorations on the walls. I caught the corner of something wooden in the kitchen.
I knew what it was—a small, beat-up table.
I knew because it was one of the few things we’d decided to leave in the house when the three of us packed up all of Carina and Fredrick’s furniture and put it in storage.
